


Benzo

by WhatATime



Series: frisky little flash (shorter fics) [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Domestic Batfamily (DCU), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Good Bro Dick Grayson, Good Older Sibling Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd-centric, Mild Angst, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24350215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatATime/pseuds/WhatATime
Summary: Hand me a benzo, and maybe I'll sleep....The sort of feeling when one is very, very tired but can't sleep.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd
Series: frisky little flash (shorter fics) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1512131
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Benzo

**Author's Note:**

> All written on 05/24/2020 at 1:00 am when the author couldn’t sleep. Such is why it's not uniquely titled but exotic in execution. Happy hunting.

Hand me a benzo, and maybe I’ll sleep.

…

Those things aren’t good for you.

_These_ _things_ aren’t good for anybody. That’s the point.

The point?

I don’t know… You know I don’t know.

…

I’m tired.

So you’re going to fill your body with trash?

Please, spare me. And I’m only asking politely because I half respect you when you’re not wearing that stupid smirk.

Dick nods. I’m flattered.

No, you’re not.  _ I’m flattered _ is just one of those things people say, not something one actually is most of the time.

I guess.

Yeah. A sigh. And really this stuff isn’t exactly trash. I mean, it’s over the counter, practically harmless, you know? Calling it trash is hyperbolic.

I know, I know. But you know how I get.

Too well. Jason slips the bottle into the right pocket of his rusty brown coat. He gazes at Dick through lidded eyes and overgrown bangs, the stubble on his chin raised in the warm heat of his apartment. How to end this is what he is trying to figure out.

It seems the same qualm is on Dick’s mind, his blues darting from item to item and fingers braided together. Tonight was fun.

Fun, yeah.

I forgot you were someone who was into this kind of stuff. Dick nods to the television where the rolling credits of a film play.

Jason tries to swallow the past tense down with the lump in his throat. Doesn’t quite. What, movies?

No, sitting and watching movies. I knew you liked movies— I figured you liked movies. You’re not a total psychopath, after all.

_ I’m flattered. _

Dick grins.

Movies are fine. I don’t mind them.

Or my company?

I guess. I’ll admit this wasn’t the worst way to spend a Saturday night.

It’s practically Sunday morning. The night is beginning to wane, and the dawn teases these two brothers as they reflect and recount. Out of nothing an hourglass has made itself, and the sand is bound to run out when the sun comes up and faces can be seen more clearly than how they are in the flicker of a television screen.

We should try doing this more…

Dick raises his head, his eyes open a hair wider than they were before. It’s not clear if his expression is surprise or excitement, a confluence of the two could also be where he stands. We should. Maybe we could make it a monthly sort of thing.

I’d like that. Jason doesn’t say much more. No words are left but those for now.

Okay— Well, um, I guess I should get going. It’s late. Early? Dick leans over and pats Jason on the thigh as he stands from his seat, his muscles tensing. Got to get back to the old apartment and all, make sure nothing’s been messed with, that I didn’t leave my stove on… Shoot me a text sometime this week, will you? It’s always nice to hear from you.

Thought you didn’t like me shooting.

A chuckle. Jay…

I won’t text you.

I know, but you could at least pretend that you will. You’ll do your old big brother that much, won’t you?

No.

Fine, what will you do, then? Send a small scroll by bird? Snail mail?

Tell you what, Dick, you text me, and I might respond.

Okay? Dick is sloppy as he drags his feet across the floor. Bending down to find his shoes, his fingers mop back and forth against the wood floor, his eyes closing as his hands tug at the laces. Why doesn’t Dick take anything? One has to wonder.

Jason switches the television off and stands as well, stretching his own sore limbs and trying to ignore the dull pain radiating from where he got nicked in the thigh.

What are your plans for the rest of the day?

Why? Are you going to brunch?

I don’t know. Dick takes a long breath, one so stringy Jason worries he can’t breathe for a moment. A wince.

You okay?

Peachy.

You sure? You sounded a little—

Lungs of Iron, Little Wing.

More like gold.

Gold? Dick sits back down at that, hunches over his widely spread legs. That’s funny. What’s that supposed to mean? The golden boy has golden lungs?

Sitting back down, Jason shrugs. Just thought of it.

All is silent for a while. The while is shorter than either of them realize. And when the silent time is over, Dick asks, Would you care if I stayed the night?

No. Jason’s answer comes out before he fully registers the question, and that fact inwardly confirms that he truly wouldn’t care if Dick stayed the night. Before anything else can happen, they come back full circle.

I’ll be your benzo, Dick sing songs. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I’ll serenade you to sleep. Dick yawns as he kicks his shoes back off and wraps himself up to his shoulders in a blanket he’s pulled from the back of the sofa.

I’m not going to fill my body with trash, Jason says.

The laugh that comes is tinged with a little more glee than the one before, borderline mania. Much of what is Dick Grayson seems to be stained with it, though. It’s the quality about him Jason hates most, though he doesn’t know if it is because of his own misanthropic nature or the sincerity of Dick’s expressions and murmurs.

Jason pulls another blanket around himself and leans over to rest his head on the middle cushion, his eyes closing as Dick’s hand comes over his hair.

Okay, Dick says. Off to sleep now.

That’s not how it works. It takes time to sleep.

Sure, sure. Get on with it.

Jason does.


End file.
